The Strayed Coconut
- Another Granny story
_ “A
Coconut? A strayed coconut!?” Anne
couldn’t believe that Granny could surpass herself like this. She looked into
Granny’s eyes to detect the familiar twinkle that meant ‘I’m pulling your leg’,
but her gaze met a pair of limpid brown eyes with no indication of jest.
_ “Yes”,
Granny said. “But if you don’t feel like listening to this story, we can read
one from the book you brought from school.”
Anne
might have been young, but not so young as not to have noticed that Granny
didn’t think much of story books from school – and, truth be told, neither did
she.
_ “No. I’d rather you told me your story, Grams.”
_ “All right, then. As I was saying, this is
the story of a strayed coconut. As you might know, coconuts are the fruit of a
palm tree that _”
_ “Grows
in hot places where there is a lot of rain,” Anne recited.
_ “Well!”
exclaimed Granny, “Miss Simmons seems to be doing a good job.”
_ “It
wasn’t Miss Simmons who taught me that. I saw it on TV.”
‘Thank
Goodness she likes this kind of programmes’, thought Granny.
_ “And
they have hairs,” completed Anne.
_ “Well,
I don’t know if all of them have ‘hairs’, as you say, I’ve seen green ‘bald’
ones, too.”
_ “What
about this one? The one in the story? With hairs or no hairs?”
_ “This one
had no hairs,” Granny said, resolving the ‘hair issue’ quickly.
_ “OK,
then,” said Anne, settling herself in the usual position in bed preparatory to
listening to Granny’s stories.
_ “Well,
four coconuts fell from the palm, not far from it, in fact.”
_ “I’ve
often heard from mum that an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so I suppose
that coconuts are no different,” said Anne seriously.
Granny
couldn’t help laughing, but avoided the inquisitive look that had accompanied
the words. That was something for ‘mum’ to explain, particularly why she said that!
_ “So,
the coconuts where lying on the hot sand when suddenly the sky darkened and a
very strong wind, gale force actually, started blowing.”
_ “And
one of them was blown away!” exclaimed Anne, half-excited, half-disappointed
that the story had such an obvious plot. Yet, she immediately thought that this
being one of Granny’s stories, it couldn’t be that easy. It wasn’t.
_ “It was
the other three that were blown away. They were lighter than CC ”
_ “CC?”
_ “Well,
yes, that was its name.” Granny said. Anne sighed, like accepting this only
because she wanted the story to go on.
_ “CC,
being heavier, just stayed where it was, but got buried by the flying sand. And
no, it didn’t die there,” she added before Anne could say anything.
_ “Of
course, not,” said Anne, “there wouldn’t be a story that way!”
‘How fast
she’s growing’, Granny thought.
_ “Well,
after the storm died down, a man who lived nearby started collecting fallen
coconuts. He carried a sort of basket with him, and the more he walked the
heavier it grew.” Granny paused to see if Anne had any comment to make.
Uncharacteristically, she was silent. But Granny knew she was trying to jump
ahead in the story.
_ “He was
tired, so he came to rest under the very palm from which CC and the other three
coconuts had fallen.”
_ “Do
palms give a lot of shade?”
_ “Well,
not much. Why do you ask?”
_ “If the
man sat there, and it was very hot, it must’ve been because of the shade, don’t
you think?”
Granny,
thinking that logical thought was rapidly developing in her granddaughter,
said, _ “Yes, right you are! But the funny thing is that, before going back
home, he decided that the basket was too heavy, so he took some of the coconuts
out of it and left them there in a neat pile so he could pick them later on.
And_”
_ “Three
of them were the ones that had fallen with CC!”, Anne finished.
_ “That’s
right. The three fallen coconuts returned to their original place, but CC…”
_ “Was
still buried under the sand,” completed Anne.
_ “Yes, but a couple of hours later, a dog turned up.
I suppose it was enjoying a walk on the beach.”
_ “Dogs like digging, don’t they?” Anne said, again a
step ahead in the story.
_ “Yes.
They usually dig to make a comfortable bed for themselves. That is, to find a
warmer or cooler place to lie down according to whether it’s hot or cold. And
it was hot again after the storm.”
Anne threw Granny a look that said ‘C’m on!’, which Granny
ignored because it was getting late.
_ “So the dog started digging himself a nice cool bed
in the wet sand when he uncovered CC.”
_ “What did the dog do?”
_ “What
all dogs do with a ball. It started playing with CC. It pawed it to right and
left, pushed it forward with its snout, run round it like mad… until CC ended
up in the sea.”
_ “That’s why it was a strayed coconut!”
Anne exclaimed, finally getting where the story was going. Yet, she couldn’t
see how Granny could possibly find a happy end to this one. Though, she
thought, she always fell asleep
before the end of stories! She promised herself that would not happen tonight.
_ “Yes,
that’s why”, Granny confirmed.
_ “But”,
Anne said, “if it went into the water, it sank, didn’t it?”
_ “No, it
didn’t. I suspect you missed part of that programme on coconuts. The ‘nut’ of a
coconut is hollow, so coconuts will float in water.”
_ “Ah!
And it floated away and away and never came back? Strayed for good?” She looked
accusingly at Granny.
_ “Actually,
it floated back on the beach as soon
as the tide turned. At high tide, the water reached almost the foot of the palm
tree in question. It came to rest exactly in the same spot where it had fallen
before – just next to the pile of coconuts the man had left earlier.”
Anne gave
a sigh – almost of relief – though she felt she had to protest.
_ “But
then, it wasn’t a strayed coconut any longer!”
_ “Haven’t
you heard that ‘you may stray afar, yet return at last’?” She didn’t know where the old proverb had come
to her mind, and was conscious that she was changing it a bit, but it seemed like
a nice way to wrap up the story.
_ “I
haven’t heard… that before.” Anne said between yawn and yawn.
_ “Now,”
said Granny, “time to go to sleep.”
_ “OK,”
Anne said, slipping easily under the covers. “And I’ll tell Miss Simmons to
teach the class that thing about afar and at last. I like it.” Her voice came
muffled and weak with sleep.
Granny
went to draw the curtains, as usual, thinking of poor Miss Simmons. She wondered
if the expression appeared in any dictionary at all. “Well,” she said to
herself, “better Miss Simmons than my daughter. She’s always complaining about Anne
pestering her with questions after my stories.” She smiled, and almost chuckled
to herself thinking that Anne’s mother must have conveniently forgotten what
she was like as a child.
